Of Her Own Making
by tielan
Summary: Teyla's no Galatea she's all of her own making. [JohnTeyla]


**Of Her Own Making**

John catches her at her door in the early morning, and holds out one arm to stop her leaving. "Good morning."

Her eyes slant up at him, cocoa-dark through sable lashes. "Good morning, John."

She doesn't evade his kiss, but doesn't engage with him either. This is brisk and brief and sweet - a fitting start to the day, a stolen taste in the empty corridor.

Footsteps approach, and they break apart.

"See you at lunch?" Today's not a mission day, and John's a busy man, but he usually has time to grab a bite to eat with his team.

"Yes." 

They part ways.

--

He actually sees her before lunch, when he drops by the gym to check in on her morning classes with the female marines and the scientists who've joined in with stretching. He keeps to the shadows outside the door, not entirely unashamed of watching the women as they move in the forms of the katas Teyla teaches them.

And when the women drift out, giving him amused looks, or quick salutes, he drifts in.

"The classes are getting bigger."

"Yes. I am considering starting up another one."

John leans against the doorframe. "Are you sure you've got time?" Between her classes, trade agreements for the Athosians, meetings with the expedition liaisons who deal with individual Pegasus cultures, missions with the team and the associated paperwork, Teyla's busy as anyone from the expedition.

She glances up as she drops the water bottle into the rush-woven bag by the window bench. "Do you have time to be here, Colonel?"

He crosses the room. "I'm making time."

This kiss is soft and slow, warm in the sunlight pouring through the window.

--

There's an emergency in the afternoon. He and Elizabeth are discussing the personnel reports for the most recent batch of people assigned to Atlantis when the call comes through from one of the marines.

"Uh, Colonel, we need rescue assistance from the piers at the end of the south-eastern arm of the city. We have people in the water."

John's on his feet before Elizabeth okays it - not that she'd negate it. "What's happened?" He briefly switches channels to order four marines to meet him at the 'jumper bay, and Sergeant Miller is checking with 'jumper maintenance as to which 'jumpers are ready to go.

He switches back to the channel where the marine is briefing Elizabeth. "...must've read the controls wrong - spilled her and her passengers into the water. We've got four people in the water, and only two strong swimmers to get them out."

"Who's down?" John's already on the stairs up to the 'jumper bay, his heels pounding at the metal treads.

"They're all bobbing up and down, sir, but Doc Houston's towing someone..." There's a mutter in the background. "Looks like it's Teyla, sir."

John increases his pace.

--

John keeps his eyes on the sea, forcing the 'jumper to hover over the waves while the marines haul in the sodden scientists like so many drowned rats. He doesn't let himself think about this.

"Got everyone?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hold onto them and brace, I'm heading back." According to Rodney, when moving in atmosphere, the 'jumper creates an aerodynamic bubble of space that reduces turbulence and drag. So John doesn't have to worry too much about the slipstream blowing in the back of the 'jumper as he hightails it back to the city.

In the back, he can hear the sounds of chattering teeth, of men and women explaining themselves, of someone counting softly to themselves as they perform CPR.

"How is she?" He has a right to ask, she's his team-mate and their ally.

"Rosser's working on her, sir."

John risks a glance behind, and sees Lieutenant Rosser about to perform mouth-to-mouth on Teyla. He turns back to the windscreen. "I'm bringing the 'jumper in on the landing space closest to the infirmary. You'll meet the medical personnel there."

"Yes, sir."

--

She claims she's fine, of course. The way Rodney claims he wasn't hovering in the infirmary - he had some allergy testing to be done. The way Ronon claims he didn't walk her to her room - he was on his way to see one of the marines. The way John claims he was 'just passing by' when he knocks on her door and she lets him in.

"What was it like?"

"In the sea?" She pours him tea with a steady hand, the scent thick and fragrant on the air. "Cold. And salty."

The tea is hot and sweet, and the silence is precious. "Carson says you should take it easy for a day. There's no obvious damage but..."

"It is best to be certain." Teyla lays down her cup, smiling. "I have received this lecture from several other people already, John."

Yeah, he bets she has. And he doesn't really have anything else to offer. "Well, just as long as you're ready for the mission we've got scheduled in two days time."

Teyla arches a brow. "The asteroid with the space station in it?"

"Yeah. Rodney's really excited."

"When is Rodney not?"

Silence is a blessing and a curse, and John doesn't care that she knows he's watching her. Candlelight brings out the fine planes of her face, casts her in gold and bronze, like a goddess come to life. Pygmalion and Galatea - but no human hand sculpted out this form, she's all her own making.

John leans across the low table, past the candles and the teapot with it's curl of scented steam and the china cups, and this time she meets him in the kiss, fierce and fiery above the hot flame and hot tea.

- **fin** -


End file.
